


A New Face. Cake Boss. Subarashiiiii.

by thelittleone (beautybedamned)



Series: That Kamen Rider OOO Band!AU [2]
Category: Kamen Rider OOO
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Music & Bands, Gen, That Kamen Rider OOO Band!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-28
Updated: 2011-10-28
Packaged: 2017-10-25 01:05:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautybedamned/pseuds/thelittleone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>First posted at The King's Room: http://thekingsroom.livejournal.com/1693.html</p></blockquote>





	A New Face. Cake Boss. Subarashiiiii.

He always knew that the Chairman was a few cherries short of a fruitcake, but really, Ankh thinks as he stumbles out of the room assigned to him in KOUGAMI, INC.'s hospital wing; this time the man's gone too far.

"Are you not pleased, Ankh?" Kougami asks, his voice echoing the length of the hall. "Now, you no longer need to hide from the public. Now, you can step out onto that stage like you have always dreamed. No longer must you compose music only to have others sing it in your place. Are you not pleased?"

Pleased? The man is batshit. No -- not batshit, there is just no _word_ in existence to describe the kind of mental state that Kougami must have in order to actually sanction this level of insanity. Surely there are laws that have been broken -- you don't just go around changing other people's faces!

Ankh is well aware of the stares he's drawing from the people on the floor and he cringes out of instinct, shrugging up his shoulders as if to shield his face. He sights the door of a nearby rest room and suddenly relief floods him, makes his legs weak. Ducking inside, he lets out a breath, all but collapsing onto the tiled floors.

He straightens then, eyes lifting to the figure reflected in the mirror. He goes very, very still.

This isn't my face. This is the first thing that echoes in his head.

This isn't me. He breathes, walks towards the counter, one hand reaching out to touch the cool glass.

No, it isn't his face; and yet somehow, it's still him in that mirror.

Underneath the refined features, he can still see himself. His eyes are still the wide, inquisitive orbs that always seem just a little too direct, but above the slant of delicate cheekbones, they seem less demanding and more arresting: the kind of eyes that compell a person to look instead of causing them to look away. He squints then, peers at the way his reflection narrows those eyes right back at him.

He smirks; lets the wry smile face. The line of his mouth is the same, the set of it harsh and unforgiving. It should be out of place in an otherwise gentle-featured face, but it is not. It gives the cherub-like look of him character; offering an edge that he recognizes as uniquely his own.

No. It's not him. But it is too, all at the same time. He's not quite sure how to explain it, really, but now that the initial shock is gone, all that is left behind is wonder.

This is me. Ankh breathes deep. This is _my face_.

"Happy Birthday," the voice that bellows spins him around to see Kougami flanked by the dour-looking doctor who he had woken to see bent over his bed. There is also that girl who never seems far from the Chairman's side. She looks bored; Ankh just wants to ask why she's in the Men's rest room or if her paycheck requires her to maintain a certain distance with her boss.

"Anybody ever tell you, President," Ankh whispers low, as if in warning. "That you have a really twisted obsession with birthdays?"

It was meant to insult, Kougami likely knows that, but the chairman just grins and claps his hands. "Yes, they have! But are not birthdays glorious things! Brilliant beginnings that ought to be celebrated!"

Ankh cringes when Kougami takes him by the shoulders, whirling him around so that he is facing the mirror once more.

"This is your evolution, Ankh!" The whisper is excited, elated. "This is the new Ankh. The one who is one step closer to attaining that dearest, most coveted desire!"

 

A month later, after a whirlwind of preparations that include photoshoots and meetings, stylists and a four-piece set of bandmates newly acquired by DESIRE, Ankh finds himself curling his fingers around the very first platinum single credited in his name.

It is the first time in his life he has ever felt this close to satisfaction. But it is not enough. Not just yet.

**Author's Note:**

> First posted at The King's Room: http://thekingsroom.livejournal.com/1693.html


End file.
